


Take A Drunk Shadowhunter Home

by HighWarlockMegaraBane



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments (Movies), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Drinking, Intoxication, M/M, Malec, drunk, drunk alec is fun to write, if you tilt your head and squint, implications of jalec, mentions of Magnus being a ho, take a drunk girl home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-05-21
Packaged: 2019-05-09 16:18:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14719470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HighWarlockMegaraBane/pseuds/HighWarlockMegaraBane
Summary: Magnus is in a slump, and no amount of lovers nor alcohol can seem to pull him out of it. He prepares to leave the bar when a stray dog is dumped at his feet with simple instructions--take him home. That proves to be no easy task--drunk kids are no fun to drag around Manhattan, especially when he happens to be a Shadowhunter. Magnus really hates dealing with Shadowhunters.However, this one does have pretty blue eyes. Maybe it'll be worth it.Just a short one-shot inspired by "Take a Drunk Girl Home" by Chris Jansen, I don't know if it'll continue. Contains early Malec, mentions of Jalec, drunk!Alec, reluctantly-caring!Magnus





	Take A Drunk Shadowhunter Home

**Author's Note:**

> OUTCAST IS COMING I PROMISE  
> I'M JUST STUCK ON IT RIGHT NOW  
> I'M SO SORRY  
> IT'S NEARLY THERE NEARLY THERE
> 
> This might not end up turning into a long story because (coughOutcastcough) I'm bad at updating regularly and things tend to never end for me. If I come up with more of a story I might make it a twoshot but I dunno yet.
> 
> Read and review! I love you guys so much! Thank you all for being so patient with meeeeeee

Magnus sat at the bar, running one painted fingernail around the rim of his shot glass. He had just gotten them redone—he had to admit, bar all their faults, mundanes knew how to give _killer_ manicures.

               He watched the club in the mirror over the bar—the pulsating lights in time with the throbbing music that rattled his ribcage, the clubgoers gyrating (more often than not on another clubgoer), all the flashy outfits and ruffled skirts that flew up with each turn and pass.

               However, he wasn’t feeling much like clubbing tonight. He wasn’t feeling much like _anything_ tonight.

               He wasn’t sure what had gotten him in a funk. Five rum and Cokes barely had him buzzed, so he had tried something harder. The bartender had called it a Dark n’ Stormy—much like the rum and Coke but instead of soda it incorporated ginger beer. That worked a little better—Magnus’ gold glittery nails were beginning to blur into the mahogany of the bar.

               He wondered if it was his last few flings. He had picked up random clubbers all around Brooklyn for the past two months and taken each to their own bed, leaving before the sun crested the skyline the next morning. Few were good, but the ones that were had been astounding. Couldn’t remember any of their names, though.

               As pedantic as he tended to be, Magnus often reached the point where the alcohol blurred the details so he could easily enjoy himself but winced the next morning and swore off the club. At least, until the next time he heard the music from the street.

               Tonight, though, Magnus was ready to go home—alone. He finished off the rest of his drink and stood, pushing the barstool behind him. The bartender gave him a nod and took the shot glass. Magnus fished a few mundane bills from his pocket and blearily laid them on the bar. He hoped it’d be enough to cover his tab; he wasn’t sure he could count right now if he tried.

               “See you later, Bane,” he said. Magnus mumbled something and turned.

               “Magnus—Magnus, Magnus.” A kid pushed his way through the crowd, shouting above the music. He was a friend of Magnus’, one of the vampire clan. Magnus believed his name was something along the lines of Dawn.

               “Hey,” he said, leaning back against the bar. Dawn was such an odd name for a boy.

               “Listen, Magnus, can you do me a favor?” Dawn glanced over his shoulders and then dropped his voice. “There’s a kid who won’t leave me alone.” His normally pressed blond hair was ruffled and his dark eyes were nervous. “He’s boiled as an owl and I need to get him off my back. At this rate I won’t get back to the Dumort before sunrise, and I didn’t bring a bike.”

               Magnus checked his watch and had to stare at it for a long time before the hands began to make sense. It was nearly two a.m.—closing time.

               “I don’t really want to—”

               “ _Adonis!_ ”

               _Ah. So that’s his name._

               “Shit,” he growled as a dark-haired someone emerged from the throng of bodies and threw itself at the vampire. Long, tan arms draped around the pale boy’s neck and their heads knocked with enough force that even Magnus flinched. “Hey, buddy.”

               “Where’d you go, you left so suddenly I could hardly keep up.” At least…that’s what it sounded like he said. His words were so slurred that even Magnus, who spoke fluent Drunk, had trouble deciphering them.

               “Listen, this is my buddy, Magnus.” Adonis ducked out from under the arms of the new boy and held him at arms’ length. “He’ll get you home, okay?”

               “No, Adonis, don’t you dare—”

               He was already gone. The other boy stared at where he had been a moment before and began to sway. With a sharp inhale, Magnus jerked forward and caught him just before he fell.

               “Steady,” Magnus muttered even as his world began to spin. The boy fell against his chest and looked up.

               And suddenly, the room wasn’t spinning anymore.

               This boy had the bluest blue eyes the warlock had ever seen. They were the color of frosted bottle glass that was left in the freezer too long. The club lights sparkled in them and his pupils were wide; still, the blue shone like diamonds. Shaggy black hair fell in tufts around an angular face, and plush pink lips were slightly parted over perfectly white teeth.

               “Hi,” he said, tipping his head to the side as his hands found Magnus’ forearms. The touch, even through Magnus’ electric green top, sent shockwaves down his arms. His hair fell comically to one side of his head, and Magnus’ attention was drawn to a shadow at the nape of his neck.

               Oh God. It wasn’t a shadow. It was a rune.

               _This kid’s a Shadowhunter_.

               “No, no, no, no, no,” Magnus began muttering to himself. He tried to quash the feeling that the blue eyes were building in his stomach. The barkeeper called closing time and the lights blazed on. The boy squinted in the light and seemed to find some bearing as he shambled to his own two feet. “Look, I know Adonis said I’d help you—and I’d like to, really—but I don’t mess with Shadowhunters.”

               The boy blinked slowly. He just had on a black t-shirt and battlegear pants. He looked like his night out wasn’t exactly _planned_. He wondered faintly what had driven the boy to come out tonight.

               “What, these?” The boy held out his arms, looking down at the runes and scars that crossed them like a small child examining a spill. “They don’t bite.”

               Magnus pinched the bridge of his nose. _I’m going to kill you, Adonis._

               “I can—go home,” the Shadowhunter continued. He took a few wavering steps, tripped, and slammed into a nearby pole, sliding to the floor. “Hello.”

               Magnus ground his teeth. His pleasant buzz was wearing off, it was two a.m., and he was exhausted. All he wanted to do was go home, settle onto the couch with Chairman Meow, and watch _Gilligan’s Island_ until his alcohol-induced sleep knocked him out until noon tomorrow. Instead, here he was watching a drunk Shadowhunter apologize profusely to a support pole while attempting to shake its hand in apology.

               “What did I do to deserve this?” Magnus said, looking skyward and casting his hands up. “Even if he is pretty! Damn you for making all the off-limits ones pretty!”

               “What?” The Shadowhunter had managed to pull himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the beam. “Are you talking to him?” He pointed to aforementioned beam, who Magnus guessed was supporting ninety percent of this kid’s weight.

               “Look, I…” Magnus bit the tip of one of his manicured nails. If he left this kid to his own devices, there was a chance he would either not make it back to wherever he came from or get swooped up by some malicious Downworlder who would do Lilith-knows-what to him in this state. As it was, people were beginning to stagger out in pairs, giggling girls on the arm of sultry boys, ready to sweat the night away and never talk again.

               “I’ll take you home,” he finally ground out. “If you can tell me where ‘home’ happens to be, kid.”

               “I’m no kid, kid,” he said, pointing a finger accusatorily roughly three feet to Magnus’ left. “You’re a kid.”

               “Just come here.” Magnus held out an arm and the boy all but fell onto it. For his small stature, he was shockingly muscle-dense.

               They managed to make it to the sidewalk before he puked. Magnus wrinkled his nose and danced away as bile-colored alcohol and bar snacks splattered the sidewalk, narrowly missing his new white platforms. The kid groaned and slumped to the side, only for Magnus to reappear under his shoulder and pull him to his feet.

               “Come on,” he said, gentler. “Let’s get you to—” He paused. “You never told me where you want me to take you.”

               “…In’stute.”

               “I hope that means Institute,” Magnus said with a sigh. He pulled the boy’s arm around his shoulders and they made their way, slowly but surely, toward the heart of Manhattan.

 

“So what brought you out tonight?” Magnus asked. “You don’t seem like the kind who enjoys nightclubs.”

               The boy groaned, stumbling a little. “Gotta—not feel.”

               “Feel what?” Magnus pressed. He was growing to despise the silence between them and was desperate for anything to fill it.

               “My—para-beetle.” He laughed. “Para-beetle.”

               “Your _parabatai_?” he asked. From what he had seen in all his years, _parabatai_ were closer than most lovers. What would have happened for this boy to drink himself into this state? Unless… _Oh no._ “Goodness, did he…pass?”

               Confused blue eyes found the sky.

               “Did he die, darling?” Magnus asked, very gently.

               “Oh—no, no. I’d—I’d die if he died.” His drunken head lolled and his feet slowed. They pulled to a stop and the dark head found a resting place on Magnus’ shoulder. He was breathing hard. Far away, a werewolf howled. “I love him, you know.”

               “So I’ve heard from other _parabatai_ ,” Magnus said with a nod. “That seems to come with the territory.”

               “No.” With surprising strength and declaration, he gripped Magnus’ shirt in one fist and propped himself up. Stunning blue eyes, more like shattered bottle glass than before, stared intently into Magnus’ green-gold ones. “ _I love him_.”

               “Oh.” Then, “ _Oh._ ”

               So the boy loved one he could never have. Magnus’ knowledge of the Upworld’s rules was slim but even he knew that Shadowhunters that were _parabatai_ could never love. It would make them far too powerful. Plus, it would seem this boy was gay—or bisexual, at the very least. That was another thing frowned upon in their hierarchy.

               The boy’s hand fell away and he leaned into Magnus’ chest. He wondered if the boy was this touchy-feely when he was sober.

               “He and I fought today” was mumbled into Magnus’ chest. “So I came out. He looks like Adonis.”

               _Ah, the ravishing blond-haired-baby-faced angel type._ “So that’s why you followed him about all night.”

               “I gotta go home.” The boy didn’t move, though—Magnus figured if he stepped back he would crash to the pavement.

               “Come then.” The warlock gently coaxed him into movement. “Let’s go.” He pulled the Shadowhunter’s arm back over his shoulders and put an arm around his ribs. “The night is dying.”

 

It was just after three by the time they stood in front of the church. Glamoured to look abandoned, the New York Institute towered above the neighboring buildings. 

They had stopped two more times for the Shadowhunter to vomit, and once for him to stagger into the bushes and take off running after what he thought was a demon but happened to be a stray cat. Magnus had barely managed to stop him throwing rocks at the ‘Ravener’, but once the cat disappeared he seemed to forget about it almost immediately.

               He had then puked again.

               “Hey, we’re here, kid,” Magnus said. The blue-eyed boy looked up blearily and stood shakily, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. “Let me see you to the door.”

               The boy nodded mutely and started forward. Magnus did as well, but he slammed into something like a brick wall just off the sidewalk. He threw up his hands and his pain rocketed through his palms. Hissing, he leapt backwards. His palms and fingertips were burned, throbbing up his whole body.

               “Wards,” he growled, shaking his head. High in the Institute, he heard bells ringing. “And now they know I’m here. This is exactly what I wanted to avoid.”

               Almost instantly, the double doors flew open and two figures raced out. One wielded a shining seraph blade and the other, a crackling whip.

               “Alec!” the whip-holder shouted—a girl. She rushed forward and hugged the drunken figure. He swayed a little and hugged her back. “Oh my God, Alec, where did you _go?_ ”

               “Izzy,” he said, sounding like a delighted child. “I had— _so much to drink_.”

               “Who’s there?” the other shouted. Magnus, cradling his burnt palms, didn’t move. It didn’t seem to matter—the seraph-wielder stepped forward until Magnus could see him in the light. He had blond hair much like Adonis, but his eyes were glittering gold. “State your business.”

               _He doesn’t look that much like Adonis,_ Magnus thought cynically. _This arrogant jackass is all cheekbones and jawlines._

               “I’m returning your lost dog,” Magnus snapped, gesturing to the boy. “He was chasing around a friend of mine so I decided to return him before he got kicked. I could have just left him at the bar. I’d like a ‘thank you’.”

               “His name was Adonis,” he supplied. “He was very nice to me.”

               The seraph blade lowered, but the suspicion never fell from the blond’s face. “And I’m supposed to believe that? How do I know you didn’t drug him?”

               Magnus cast his hands skyward. “If I wanted to drug him, don’t you think I would have dragged him back to my home to ravish his prone, naked body? Honestly, Shadowhunter, if I had any ulterior motives, I would not have brought him _here!_ ” Magnus turned away. “I’m leaving. Keep your mutt on a shorter leash.”

               “Wait.” The boy turned away from the girl and stumbled back toward Magnus. Both other Shadowhunters made surprised noises, and Magnus half-turned back. He caught himself on one of the stone walls surrounding the garden. “Wait—your name. I didn’t get it.”

               Magnus looked slowly over his companions. “So you didn’t.”

               He blinked bright blue eyes. “I’m Alec. Well, that’s what Izzy and Jace call me. My real name’s Alexander. Alexander Lightwood. But that’s what my parents call me. Call me Alec. Call me.” His face flushed, a sure sign that the puking had obviously lowered his blood alcohol level. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

               “My name’s Magnus.” He didn’t realize he was speaking until his sister—Izzy—gave a little gasp. “Magnus Bane.”

               Alec smiled. It was so genuine and innocent Magnus covered his mouth with one palm, coughing a little as heat rose to his own face. “Magnus.”

               _Oh, don’t say it like that._ His heart shuddered.

               “High Warlock—of Brooklyn?” the boy—Jace—asked incredulously. Magnus did _not_ like him. Alec deserved better.

               “The one and only.” He started down the sidewalk. “Keep your brother’s leash tighter,” he called to Izzy. “I won’t be so helpful next time.”

               _Yes, you will_ , a tiny voice in his head mocked. Magnus smiled to himself.

               “Goodbye, Magnus!” Alec called, voice high and drunken. “Goodbye!”

               Magnus raised one hand over his shoulder in silent farewell.

               _If he smiles at me like that again, yes, I will._


End file.
